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Guilherme Borges guilhermeborgees — i Loved this book but my bloody life was sort of better. You guys should read it =]

Diana Morales dmoralesya5cfd — Not the Dimmest Star in the Universe This first novel wasn’t that bad. I just wanted to like it a smidgen more than I did. I wanted to be able to say that it warranted five stars, not three or four. I wanted to quote Joe Pernice’s lyrics. I wanted to say that the novel had an Amazing Glimmer, an Amazing Glow, that it made me Lightheaded and Shaken Baby, that the protagonists made me feel like I’d been Blinded by the Stars, that they all Heightened Everything, that it all wasn’t a Flaming Wreck or just a Pisshole in the Snow. I wanted to look on the Bryte Side, not hobble around on a Bum Leg. I wanted to turn up at the best restaurants in town and dine without reservations. In the end, I’d probably rate it 3 ½ stars, but I’ll raise it to four, out of a spirit of generosity and gentle encouragement. What Does Joe Pernice the Musician Have Going for Him? Joe Pernice is an indie musician who works a rich vein somewhere between Singer/Songwriter Troubadour and Power Pop. I’ve got five Pernice Brothers albums and one supposedly solo album (“Big Tobacco”). I’m listening to them now, thinking nice thoughts about Big Star and Badfinger. He has great taste in music, as does the anonymous narrative voice of his novel. They namedrop Lou Barlow, the Chills, the Dream Syndicate (I’ve got Joe doing a nice solo version of “Tell Me When It’s Over” live on KEXP). What Does Joe Pernice the Novelist Have Going for Him? Joe Pernice comes across as a slacker gentleman on the page. His writing has a beautiful, elegant, gentle tone about it. He is economical with his description, he focuses on people and their interactions, he gets their conversations down pat. Not one word or expression jumps off the page and shouts, “I shouldn’t be here”. He has good manners, you can’t imagine him deliberately hurting anyone. Nevertheless, his twenty-something protagonist (I’ll call him “Joe”) does hurt people and he gets hurt. He does all the things I did at his age, and his friends do all the things that my friends did, usually with and to each other. The novel hovers between Boston and Brooklyn and Cape Cod, sometimes indistinguishably. “Joe” drifts between Jocelyn and Marie, learning about them, learning about himself, learning about relationships and learning about life in the process. Joe Novelist captures all of this word-perfectly, as you would expect a consummate lyricist to do. What Doesn’t Joe Pernice the Novelist Quite Pull Off? By which question I mean, apart from the masturbation scenes? My fear is that one or other Joe is just a little too gentlemanly, too polite, too reactive for his own good. “Joe” Character would never be the first to suggest that we get up to some mischief, though he might be a responsive sidekick if you came up with the idea first. Joe Novelist is a good portrait painter, he gets the look right, he pays attention to the detail of the static image. However, I sense that he is less comfortable with verbs and dynamism and drama. While his characters have shared bad experiences in the past, we hear about them retrospectively, we don’t witness the disputes, the arguments, the tragedies. They are already distant nouns by the time we learn about them. We aren’t party to any of the break-ups, nor are we there for all of the make-ups. Show Me Your Private Parts It’s not that he writes about these issues ineptly. It’s just that he doesn’t write about them at all or enough. He censors them, as if it would be impolite to enter the bedroom and spy on his protagonists. Only, an author’s characters aren’t supposed to have any privacy. Their right of privacy is fictitious. We want to see bad things happen to them, only so that we can invest in them and see them prevail. Twenty-Something Loop “Joe” Character seems to be trapped in a twenty-something loop that pushes and pulls him between two cities and two girls, between commitment and non-attachment, between celibacy and “so-called celibacy”, between loneliness, friendship and family. Surely, the point of the novel is not that this lifestyle can go on forever, that the song remains the same, that you can keep regurgitating the same album? Surely, he has to grow up, or turn 30, or do (or experience) something dramatic and life-changing? Like “get a life”. Surely, it must feel so good when you stop? Then again, is this review just the rant of a Post-Thirty-Something who wouldn’t mind flitting idly between Boston and Brooklyn for a few years? My Me-Something, pretending to be on my own, with no direction home, like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone? Then I realise, ha ha, it’s just my imagination running away with me! Whose Novel is It Anyway? Ultimately, however, my dilemma as a reader is a product of Joe Novelist’s artistic choice, not his artistic failure. He chose to write his novel this way, and he wrote the novel in his head very capably. Nevertheless, I want him to do another novel, I want him to hone his skills, I want him to grow as an artist, I want him to finally "discover a lovelier you". I don’t want him to have Zero Refills in his pen. So, this work is worth exploring before he delivers that difficult sophomore novel. This Review is All Over, Bar the Shouting I want to meet Joe Pernice one day, shout him a bourbon and tell him I’ve got everything he’s ever done, even his first novel. And he’ll chuckle and say, “Yeah, first novels are always a bit embarrassing, aren’t they?” And I’ll respond, “It wasn’t that bad. I just wanted to like it a smidgen more than I did”. And he’ll say, “You’re such a gentleman.” Then, some girl, maybe his partner, will come up to him and say, “Ready for bed, Joe?” and they’ll disappear into the night. I’ll have one more rum (I hate bourbon) and I’ll wander off to my imaginary mansion on the hill.

Artur Rymsza cohannah — Pledged is extremely fascinating. It is amazing how far sorority girls will go solely for acceptance from a pseudo community. It is honestly scary to read about these girls that strive to have no character/personality or educated opinions (actually any opinion at all).